‘Who’s the one mouthing off about Spartacus?’ barked the Thracian.
‘That’d be me.’ The bald man got slowly to his feet. ‘Got a problem with what I said?’
‘As a matter of fact, I do.’
At this, all but the young soldier who’d spoken stood up. Any trace of friendliness had left their faces. Meaningful hands were laid on the hilts of knives and swords.
‘I’d advise you to walk away now,’ snarled the bald man, stepping forward. ‘Before you get badly hurt.’
‘Or killed,’ added one of his fellows with a toothy leer.
‘Is that a threat?’ growled Spartacus.
‘Take it how you will.’ The bald man moved even closer.
Good. Spartacus darted forward, grabbed the bald man by the front of his tunic and shoved him backwards. He landed on his arse in the fire. With a bawl of pain, he leaped up, clutching his rear end. Several of his companions — most notably the young man who was still seated — sniggered.
Carbo laughed out loud, but then the rest of the soldiers drew their weapons. Shit, he thought, pulling out his own knife. It would have been better to walk away.
‘Think very carefully before you attack your leader,’ cried the Thracian.
The bald man stopped yelling. A trace of fear entered his eyes. ‘Eh? You’re not Spartacus!’
‘Am I not? Do I need to be wearing my mail and carrying my sica for you to know me?’ Spartacus stepped forward, raising a fist. ‘Who wants the glory of saying that he took a Roman eagle in battle and, by doing so, shamed an entire legion?’ he roared.
All around them, men’s heads turned.
It was the same cry that Spartacus had used to encourage his army the day that they had fought Gellius, remembered Carbo with delight.
The bald man’s anger had been replaced by pure dread. ‘N-no, sir. I recognise you now.’
His companions shared incredulous stares with one another before quickly shoving their weapons away. ‘We’re sorry, sir. We didn’t realise,’ mumbled one. There was a rapid chorus of agreement, and Carbo relaxed a little.
Spartacus’ flinty eyes bored into the soldiers one by one.
‘Gods above, Zeuxis, you’re a bloody idiot! We’ll all be executed now, because of your big mouth,’ said a thickset soldier with cropped hair.
The balding man’s face crumpled. ‘Please forgive me, sir. I didn’t know who you were.’
‘A moment ago, you were complaining about how long I’d been away. Dead in a ditch, you said.’
‘I didn’t really think that, sir, I-’
‘Don’t lie to me, fool. I heard what you said.’
‘You had been gone for an age, sir. I know I wasn’t alone in worrying about what would happen to the army. To all of us. Without you, sir, we would have filth like Castus and Gannicus trying to take charge. That’s what everyone’s saying.’ Zeuxis glanced at his companions for support, but none would meet his eye. Resigned and unsurprised, he turned back to Spartacus. ‘Thank the gods that you have returned, though!’
‘Is what he said true?’
No one answered.
They’re too damn scared, thought Carbo, amazed at Spartacus’ ability to instil awe with his sheer confidence.
‘You!’ Spartacus barked at the young soldier with deep-set eyes.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Is your comrade right?’
‘There is something to what he says, sir,’ came the awkward reply. ‘But it’s only talk. You know what men are like.’
‘You didn’t agree with Zeuxis, however.’
‘No, sir.’
‘Why didn’t you try to attack me as well?’
‘I don’t pick fights for no reason, sir.’
‘Hmmm. You seem to be the most steady one here. What’s your name?’
‘Marcion, sir.’
Spartacus made a snap decision. ‘So, Marcion, do you vouch for these men?’
A sharp tang of fear tinged the already tense atmosphere. Everyone had caught the underlying meaning in their leader’s words.
‘Yes, sir. I do. They are all good soldiers. They’ve fought bravely in every battle I’ve seen. Zeuxis might have a big mouth, but he killed a Roman officer in Picenum, and Arphocras there’ — he indicated a man with a bushy beard — ‘helped to capture a standard the day we fought Gellius.’
Spartacus glared at Zeuxis, who was rubbing gingerly at his burned arse. ‘Is that right?’
‘Yes, sir, it is!’ He pointed at the pile of weapons. ‘I can show you his sword.’
‘There’s no need. I believe you.’
Zeuxis fell silent. He watched Spartacus fearfully. So did his companions.
‘The reason I went away was not as you thought, to scout out our route. I went to Rome.’ He smiled at their surprise.
‘Why, sir?’ asked Marcion.
‘To find out what the Romans have planned for us, and to assassinate the new general who will lead their army.’
More shock on their faces.
‘Did you succeed, sir?’ Zeuxis ventured.
‘Partially. I learned that the legions will not wait until the spring to march against us. Two of us weren’t enough to kill Crassus, but we put the fear of Hades into him, that’s for sure.’ He waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’ll slay the whoreson the next time I meet him.’
Now the soldiers looked awed.
‘Would you like to hack down another Roman officer, Zeuxis? Are the rest of you ready to fight another battle against the legions? Because that’s what we’re going to have to do — sooner or later.’
‘If you’re leading us, sir, I’ll fight anyone — even the Minotaur!’ cried Zeuxis.
‘What of you, Marcion?’ asked Spartacus.
‘Count me in, sir.’
‘Me too!’ shouted Arphocras.
Their companions roared their agreement. Around them, men began chanting, ‘SPAR-TA-CUS! SPAR-TA- CUS!’
Carbo was amazed at how the situation had been reversed. A group of unhappy soldiers, many of them ready to desert, had become fervent believers in Spartacus.
A smile of approval flickered across the Thracian’s lips, and he raised his hands for silence. ‘You are brave men, all of you. And although you’re a pain in the arse sometimes’ — here, he eyed the embarrassed Zeuxis — ‘I wouldn’t ever be without you!’
The air filled with yells of delight.
‘Everything that you suffer, every hardship and tribulation, I also endure.’ Spartacus turned to regard the larger crowd of onlookers. ‘I may have gone away, but I was always going to come back. Always! As the Great Rider is my witness, I will never leave you, my brave soldiers. NEVER!’
This time, Carbo joined in. ‘SPAR-TA-CUS! SPAR-TA-CUS! SPAR-TA-CUS!’
‘I will see you again soon,’ Spartacus said to Zeuxis. ‘You might have had time to chew on your sandals by that stage.’
Zeuxis’ flush grew even deeper; his companions fell about laughing.
Spartacus clapped Zeuxis on the arm. Then he turned to Carbo with a wicked grin. ‘It’s time to sort out Castus and Gannicus.’ And see my child!
With the soldiers’ cheers ringing in their ears, they walked off.
This time, it was down the main avenue between the tents.
The camp filled with happy cries as men saw that their leader had returned. Spartacus waved and smiled,
